


God Bless America

by madameofmusic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, President AU, brief character mentions of a lot of people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2000484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madameofmusic/pseuds/madameofmusic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>President John Stilinski is re-elected, and brings with him an older, and much more grown up Stiles with him. It's been eight years, and Derek isn't ready for</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I blame the notes on this [post.](http://raisesomehale.tumblr.com/post/92476763343/sinyhale-haletostilinski-heathyr-dylan%0A) I didn't get it quite right, but eh. Whatever  
> Also this is unbeta'd and fueled by sleep deprivation and the urge to write something besides Big Bangs and Scholarship essays. I'm so sorry.  
> I'm probably not going to do anymore than this but who knows, right?

 

It had been a rough eight years for Derek Hale, head of the President’s Secret Service. That _dick_ Whittemore had beat out former president Stilinski by the skin of his teeth, and even though Derek had only served for three presidents, he definitely decided Whittemore was the worst out of them.

He treated the entire service like _dogs_. He made them fetch things like they were no more than PAs, and _conveniently_ forgot to tell them every time a visiting foreign officer he didn’t like came by until it was almost too late to rearrange officers for details.

And his policies were the worst Derek had ever seen, and Derek had guarded _Senator Harris_.

But, alas, none of that mattered. Derek worked under Whittemore through his first term, and then was promoted to head guard during his miraculous re-election (Derek wasn’t the only one grumbling about a recount after that one.)

But, every president’s term ended, and this was true for Whittemore too.

Election day had come up fast, and he knew John Stilinski was running again, and he knew he’d probably win too, considering the up and coming replacement for Whittemore was as spineless as a sea slug and stuck his foot in his mouth near every interview he was in. 

Or, at least, so he had heard. The life of the head Secret Service guard was never filled with ample amount of free time, but especially not the month before an election. There were details to organize and routes to plan, and vetting for new guards, and basically making sure that no possible president, ex president, or any of their family members were in danger.

It was rough, to say the least.

So, needless to say he was very, very happy come election day. All of the candidates were in their home states, Whittemore was in the White House, and he was finally able to watch as the last of the votes came through on the small television in his office. 

John Stilinski won, to no one’s surprise, and by a lot. Derek pulled off the tab of his beer, and gulped half of it down. Drinking on the job was highly frowned upon, but one beer in celebration was something that would be looked over if anyone ever found out anyway.

He flicked it over to Fox news, and chuckled as they scrambled to explain why their precious candidate hadn't pulled through, before changing it back to a very happy looking new President Elect standing and giving his acceptance speech. 

Derek half listened as he paged through the schedule for tomorrow, and just happened to glance up at the end of Stilinski’s speech. There was a young man standing next to him as he walked off stage. Derek frowned, not recognizing the man on sight. Perhaps a PA? Or maybe a young senator?

Just then, the man turned to wave to the cameras, and Derek’s jaw dropped in recognition.

It was _Stiles_. The awkward, somewhat gangly kid who hadn't quite grown into himself at sixteen now stood next to his Dad, and boy was he _hot_.

He was all filled out, shoulders broad and narrowed towards tapered hips, fingers long and slim as he waved towards the crowd, other arm wrapped around his dad.

Derek turned off the tv and ignored the odd flush that had risen up his neck, choosing instead to go back to work.

  
  
  
  


Normally, once kids reached the age of sixteen, a security detail didn’t need to be assigned to them any longer. Derek didn’t really understand _why_ that was, but hey. Made his job easier, and it wasn’t his place to really argue with those rules anyway. Just to serve and protect.

Except maybe he was kind of wishing that particular rule wasn’t in place as Stiles Stilinski, son of president elect, bounded up the stairs and stopped right in front of Derek, grinning.

“Hey!” He started, body still the constant ball of motion it had been eight years earlier. “I heard you got promoted to HBIC. Nice, man.”

“HBIC?” Derek stared at Stiles, confused. “Thanks?”

Stiles laughed and clapped a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “No problem dude. Hey, so, where’s my dad? I need to talk to him before tomorrow.”

Derek folded his arms across his chest. “You know I can’t just let you in that easy, Stiles.” He said, frowning at the boy. How he managed to charm his way past the gate guards, Derek had no idea, and would be addressing them later, but after he had dealt with Stiles.

“Really? What do you think I am, Derek? An android who looks like the president’s son come to take over the white house?” Stiles asked, arching an eyebrow and snorting.

“That’s special Agent Hale.” Derek said, knowing already that if Stiles wouldn’t call him that eight years ago, he certainly wouldn’t call him that now.

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles said, waving a hand. “Show me to the metal detectors or whatever so we can both get on with our days.”

Derek sighed, and waved a hand, gesturing for Stiles to be led away with a few other guards. “After you’re done, take him up to see the President.” He ordered, watching as Stiles began talking the ear off of one of the younger guards.

Derek smiled fondly before walking away, back to what he had been doing before being alerted an unknown vehicle was coming up the drive. He noted that not much about Stiles had changed besides his appearance. He was still very much the ball of boundless energy and snark he had been when he’d left.

Derek tried to ignore the thought that all of it was far more attractive now than he was comfortable thinking about.

  


The inaugural ceremony went off without a hitch. Everyone was where they were supposed to be, agents were stationed at every door and both the President, and now _former_ president were safe and well.

The dinner afterwards, however, was much less smooth. Derek was forced to dispatch several officers to deal with picketers outside the gates of the white house protesting Stilinski’s re-election and several of the changes he promised to make, leaving him to stand in at the back of the room. The picketers turned into the beginnings of a small scale riot, and, when Derek told Stilinski what was happening, the President decided the best course of action was to go out and speak with them.

Derek could feel a headache coming on. He followed the man outside dutifully, and stood by his side while the man talked to the protesters for what felt like a good three quarters of an hour.

Finally, when the protesting dispersed, Stilinski went inside. The rest of the night went fine, save for a few loud voicings of conversation by some of the ambassadors, and Stiles and Whittemore’s little shit of a kid Jackson getting into a heated argument.

But overall, Derek was glad to have Stilinski (And Stiles, his brain supplied traitorously) back in the White House.

At the end of the night, when everyone had been escorted back to their rooms and Derek had sent the rest of the agents to get some much needed rest, he was left with President Stilinski and Stiles.

“Derek!” The man approached him after the last ambassador had left, tugging him into a firm sidearm hug. “It’s nice to see you got the position you deserved.”

“Thank you, sir.” Derek said, a bit embarrassed. The man was always so friendly, and had treated Derek like one of his own as soon as he met the then 22 year old. “And congratulations to you, sir. We’re all glad to have you back.”

“Glad to be back. It was a hard run, but we did it, didn’t we?” He said, directing the last part to his son who had wandered up, hands in the pockets of his suit jacket as he stopped next to his dad.

“Yeah.” Stiles said, smiling at Derek. “Too bad you’ll have to spend the first year undoing all of the last eight.”

The comment drew a chuckle out of Derek, who had to hide with a cough. “Be nice.” John said, frowning at his son.

Stiles rolled his eyes, and shrugged. “It’s a free country. I can say that Whittemore fucked everything you worked so hard on and ran the country like a two year old on crack if I want to.”

Derek wanted to agree, but didn’t want to get in trouble for bias. Luckily, John saved him from having to say anything to Stiles. “It’s getting late. Maybe you should head to bed kid, before you have to get back to school. Just because you’re the president’s kid doesn’t mean you can slack off”

“I know, I know.” He said, huffing and rolling his eyes. “Wanna escort me back to my room, Special Agent Hale?” He asked, flashing Derek a grin and a wink.

“I-” Derek made a vague gesture at the president. “Can’t.”

John shook his head. “Sure you can. Besides, I want to get reaquainted for a bit. I’ve missed a lot.” He looked around the room with a small smile. “I’m sure someone else can make sure I make it back to my room.”

Derek hesitated for a moment longer, before giving in. He called over another agent before stepping away with Stiles.

Stiles was quiet, humming tunelessly as they walked. “It’s good to be back.” He finally said as they reached his room, turning back to Derek with a smile. “Good to know some things haven’t changed, too.”

His smile turned a little pointed, and Derek cleared his throat, ears turning pink. “Good to have you back. Place was quiet without you.”

Stiles laughed, head tipping back as he unlocked his door and pushed it open. “I bet.” He murmured, leaning against the door frame. “Thanks for walking me.”

“It’s my job.” Derek said, lifting an eyebrow.

“I know.” Stiles said, staring at Derek for a moment before reaching out and adjusting his tie, fingers tightening the knot that had come loose before trailing down the silk. He smiled once more, before disappearing behind his door with a quiet “Goodnight, Derek. 

Derek was fucked, to say the least.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well alrighty, guess we're continuing this.

“Did you know about this?”

John Stilinski looked up to his son, and then down to the magazine Stiles slammed on his desk. “Are there people who don’t know about Us Weekly?” He asked, a bit confused as to what _exactly_ Stiles was talking about.

“ _This!_ This whole… America’s Sweetheart thing!” He said, hands waving through the air.

John leaned back in his chair, sighing quietly. He folded his glasses and placed him on his desk, contemplating his son. “If I remember correctly, they called you that last time too.”

Stiles stopped his pacing, and leveled his dad a look that could only be described as unamused. “Yeah, well, last time there was a lot more “cute little boy” and a lot less of “hot son of the president,” dad.”

John chuckled, shaking his head as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I’m not following. What’s your problem here exactly?”

Stiles threw up his hands and made a noise of disbelief. “I’m being _objectified_ , Dad. Don’t you see the problem here?”

“Stiles, I’m the President of the United States. I have a lot of work to do. _This_ is not worth my time.” John said, putting his glasses back on and picking up his pen once more. “Go bother someone else.”

“I’m wounded, Father, wounded.” He said, walking out of the office and slamming the door behind him.

“You’re twenty-four, son! Get over it!.” John called after him, laughing despite himself.

 

 

“-and they said I had a cute butt!” Derek stared at Stiles as he paced in front of the agent’s desk, trying his best to follow Stiles’s fast words. “Derek are you listening?” Stiles stopped in front of Derek’s desk, leaning heavily over the man.

“Yes?” Derek mumbled, eyes narrowing. “What are you complaining about again?”

Stiles scoffed, and plopped back in a chair, flopping dramatically over the arms. “The tabloids, Derek, jesus keep up.”

Derek shook his head and went back to flipping through the schedule for the next few days, making notes in his agenda. “They’re just magazines, Stiles. No one really reads those anymore, anyway.”

Stiles snorted, adjusting himself in the chair until his head was hanging off the seat. “Yes they do. Just because you decide to coop yourself up here twenty-four seven doesn’t mean the rest of us do. Some people _read_ , Derek.”

Derek glared at Stiles. “I _read."_  

“Yeah, but not the good stuff. I mean, how else are you going to find out the hottest hollywood hookups?”

Derek honestly couldn’t tell if Stiles was being sarcastic at first, though the smirk growing on his lips gave him away a few moments later. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Class, maybe?”

“Not today. Today is a free day, which means I get to spend the entire day playing video games and eating junk food.” Stiles grinned, and sat up quickly, almost knocking over a lamp with his eagerness. “Come play with me!”

“No.” Derek said, righting the lamp and sighing. “I have work to do.”

Stiles batted his eyelashes at Derek, cupping his hands under his chin. “Please? Pretty please with the most patriotic cherry ever on top?"

Derek snorted, rolling his eyes. “Go play with Scott.” He said, referring to one of the younger agents he had hired during election time, of whom he frequently saw hanging out with Stiles off-duty.

“ _Someone_ sent him on a detail, and he won’t be back until next week.” Stiles said, looking pointedly at Derek.

 _Right_ , Derek thought, frowning. He had done that, hadn’t he? “If I come play one game with you, will you leave me alone?” He said, checking his watch and realising it was past his lunch break anyway.

“Sure.” Stiles said, standing up and dusting himself free of invisible dirt. “But you better make it a good game, alright?” 

Derek smirked, and stood as well. “Please. Video games are child’s play.” 

 

 

Video games were _not_ child’s play, and Derek regretted ever saying such. A quick game turned into five, and then Derek had played round after round of some shoot-em-up Stiles had picked until his lunch was far past over, and he couldn’t chance missing any more work. 

He couldn’t leave until he had beat Stiles though. 

“One more game.” He growled out, pressing the button to go back to the main menu. “I’m gonna win this time.” 

“Sure you are, big guy.” Stiles said, glee coating his tone. “Just like you were gonna win the past ten rounds.” 

“Shut up Stiles.” Derek said, glaring at the other man. 

“Fine. If you’re so insistent you’ll win, let’s make a… wager, eh?” Stiles wiggled his fingers, momentarily distracting Derek. 

The guard flushed, and glared even more. “Gambling is illegal.” 

“Not if it’s not for money!” Stiles said, cackling. 

“What do you want then?” Derek asked, curiosity a bit piqued. 

“How about…” Stiles hummed, tapping his fingers against his thighs. “I win, you buy me dinner.” He said, pointing at Derek. 

“And when I win?” Derek asked, a bit thrown by the bet not too surprised. 

“I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the week, and try my hardest to stop distracting Scott while he’s working.” Stiles said, still grinning. 

“Wait, distracting Sc-” 

“Ah, ah, ah. No questions.” Stiles said, pressing his finger to Derek’s mouth. “Deal?”

Derek sighed, long suffering, and moved Stiles hand away from his face before nodding. “Deal.”

Predictably, Derek lost, though he did manage to hold his own for almost three-quarters of a minute before Stiles’s gunman shot down Derek’s own. 

Derek grumbled and tossed the controller down. He stood, and stretched, checking his watch once more. “I have to go now.”

Stiles stood as well, and went to open the door for Derek. “Alright.” He said, smiling at Derek. 

Derek stepped around him, but stopped when Stiles caught his wrist. He turned back, eyebrow arched in question. 

“I’m looking forward to our date.” He said, winking at Derek and blowing him a kiss before shutting the door. 

“It’s not a date.” Derek said, though no one heard it besides the fake potted plant next to the door.

 

 

At seven-thirty on the dot, a half hour after his shift ended, Derek picked Stiles up. The younger man was dressed in a navy blue button up and khaki pants, and Derek felt majorly under dressed in the same cheap white button-up and slacks he had been wearing all day. “You uh, look good.” He said, gesturing to Stiles outfit. 

Stiles looked him up and down, and lifted an eyebrow. “You too.” He said, not seeming to notice, or care, that Derek was dressed the same as he had been. 

“Where are we going?” Stiles asked as they began to walk, hands tucked safely in his pocket. 

“The diner on 18th.” Derek said, opening the door for Stiles to one of the standard issue cars. 

Stiles took one look at it, and shook his head. “Screw that, we’re taking my jeep.” He said, shutting the door and heading to where his jeep was parked. 

“But-” Derek began to protest, before sighing and following Stiles. They would only be a few miles from home, and he had a gun tucked with him, just in case. 

He got in the passenger side of the jeep, and listened as Stiles rambled on about something to do with school. Often he talked too fast for Derek to follow, and this seemed to be true tonight as well. Stiles didn’t seem to mind Derek’s few responses every now and again, acknowledging them and continuing to ramble. 

Dinner was much the same. Derek responded when he had something to say, but was fairly content in letting Stiles carry most of the conversation, hands waving around as he spoke, though he wasn’t too keen when Stiles almost spilled Strawberry milkshake in his lap.

Dinner was over fairly quickly, and Derek found himself in the car, driving back to the White House not soon after.

They parked, and Derek walked with Stiles until they found themselves parting ways. Stiles lived in the presidential suite with his dad, and Derek usually slept in one of the extra bedrooms when there was one, since his job demanded he be in the White House everyday, and his family lived across the country.

“I had a good time tonight.” Stiles’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he nodded in agreement.

“Me too.” He said, smiling at the other man.

“Maybe we can…” Stiles trailed off when Derek tilted his head in question.

“Maybe we can what?” Derek asked, not understanding.

“Nevermind.” Stiles said, easy grin falling from his face to be replaced with a tighter, tenser version. The atmosphere around them grew stiff, and Stiles shifted uncomfortably. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He said, patting Derek awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Of course.” Derek said, nodding slowly, not quite understanding why Stiles had become so weird all of a sudden. “Sleep well.” He said, stepping away from Stiles and down the hall.

“You too.” Stiles said, waving a hand. Derek could feel Stiles’s eyes on him all the way down the hall.

Derek frowned to himself, thinking over the end of the night. It was a fun outing, until the end, and he couldn’t figure out what made Stiles look so disheartened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a lot of hits for less than 24 hours... Thank you so much! I'm glad to see people liked it. 
> 
> I will be continuing this, and I've made a rough plan now, but with being signed up for two different big bangs, camp NaNo ending in nine days, and school starting soon, I can't promise I'll be timely about this at all. 
> 
> But again, wow, thank you for your kudos and comments, and I'm excited to write the rest of this! 
> 
> Also, if anyone's interested, I'm filling prompts because I hit 350 followers over at my [tumblr](http://goddammitdylanobrien.tumblr.com). (I promise I'm not going to link this every chapter okay.)

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](http://goddammitdylanobrien.tumblr.com) if you want to bother me


End file.
